


Time to Reflect

by Cassie_grace06



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 21:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassie_grace06/pseuds/Cassie_grace06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contains spoilers for episode 4x22, "So Long, and Thanks for All the Red Snapper." Chapter one is a missing scene between Cho and Summer, chapter two is a missing scene between Rigsby and Cho that explores what has happened to our beloved Chigsby team this season. Cho-centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Again I say, SPOILERS! Please don't read this note or the story if you don't want to be spoiled for the events of episode 4x22.
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter takes place immediately after Cho and Summer fight. I wanted to write a bit more as to why these two fell apart and what happened between the fight and Summer leaving. Kimball was so happy with her when things were good, and my love for his character wanted those times, wanted them to stay together because of those times. But I now see that those times weren't worth what they both go through when things were bad. This talks about that reality. 
> 
> Thank you in advance for any kudos!

The fighters had retired to their corners, and the air was thick with sickly anticipation. It wasn't a good anticipation, it wasn't fun, and contrary to what Summer may have been thinking, Kimball wasn't enjoying it at all.

They say familiarity breeds contempt. Contempt was a good word for what Kimball was feeling in that moment. He watched Summer pant, watched as her face finally registered some kind of fear, some kind of maturity, some kind of realization that this—this _thing_ —they had developed wasn't healthy for them, not even a little bit.

Kimball sighed heavily, closed his eyes, and leaned back in the chair he had claimed as his area, his Adam's apple working as he swallowed down his emotions, his anger.

'Don't get up, Summer,' his mind ordered her silently. 'Don't move. Don't come towards me. Don't try to touch me. Not yet.'

For once, she was smart. For once, she knew, and she stayed on the couch, just watching him.

But through the silence, fate was working. The more time that passed, the higher the wall was built between them, and they both started to realize with a clarity too bright not to hurt that it was over.

Finally, Kimball licked his dry lips, opened his eyes, and let the cop part of him take control. If he didn't let logic push through the fog in his head, they'd never be able to break the circle they'd created. Things needed to change, or they'd only end up hurting each other more.

"You should get out of town for awhile. At least until Banner forgets this happened. I scared him enough to get him to lay off for a few weeks, but that doesn't mean he won't retaliate again once he stops looking over his shoulder every five seconds."

Summer breathed out a shuddering sigh. "Kimball..."

"No. Don't. I'm a _cop_ , Summer. I love my job. It's a pain in the ass sometimes, but it's what I am. It's my identity, an identity I've fought too hard and too long for to just give up. Not for you, not for anybody."

Kimball rubbed a tired hand over his face, and was grateful to see that the hand was steady. The adrenaline from their confrontation was finally wearing off.

The adrenaline from confronting _her_. God, how had they come to this? Why couldn't things have just stayed the way they were for a little bit longer?

It was all too obvious in that moment, the moment she handed him the one—the last?—packet of coke from under her chair. He knew, just _knew_ that Banner didn't hurt her that badly over a single ounce of coke. She must have taken more. Where did the rest go? He knew she was a danger junkie, but as he idly brushed the last of the coke bag off his black shirt, he finally began to look at things with his cop eyes.

Eyes he forced shut months ago, when she first smiled at him.

The ease with which she stole his prescription pills had always bothered him, but he ignored it. The way she was always trying to lie to him had put his guard up, but he forced it back down. That she was always trying to see if she could act well enough to fool his instincts was just something he hadn't wanted to examine too close. He could turn a blind eye to the things he didn't want to explain, but his instincts—his heart—had always known what was going on.

His mother had told him that if he had to change a person too much for a relationship to work then it probably never would. He knew she was a wise woman. Mrs. Cho wasn't anybody's fool, and every male in his family knew to listen when spoke. But that didn't mean he didn't slightly resent the quiet surety and confidence in her advice, and how often she proved herself right.

"Kimball, come on, I love you."

"Yeah."

"I do!"

Kimball looked at her with tired eyes and knew that yes, she did love him. Loved his almost tribal protection of her, loved the way they were in bed together, loved his body. And she probably, somewhere in it all, loved his heart. And he loved hers. He loved the way she could always make him laugh, loved the way she was so amazingly confident, loved the way she so easily stole into his life. He loved her.

But she was also right about something else. He was just as messed up as her, in his own way. Everyone was messed up a little, hell, nobody was perfect. But the ways she was messed up and the ways he was messed up were dangerous when combined. Too dangerous.

"Do you have anywhere to go until Banner cools off or gets himself arrested?"

"I...I have a sister. In Seattle."

"Call her."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you all, but I've missed our Chigsby moments this season. It seems like we've had so few. This is an attempt to explain why and give us a few more precious moments. This scene takes place immediately following the end of ep. 4x22, so a spoiler warning for pretty much anything up to and including that episode.

Kimball had stood in front of the ticket counter long after Summer was gone from his sight, his teeth clenching and unclenching, his arms stiff at his sides, his posture straight but his eyes watery. He never cried. Even when he was in pain he usually resorted to swearing instead of allowing moisture to slide from his eyes. But this wasn't a pain he was used to. This wasn't a pain he felt very often. He knew the relationship with her had to end, but knowing didn't make letting her walk out of his life any easier.

Slowly, the buzzing in his head abated and he was able to hear the bustle of the busy train station again. The arrivals and departures voice droned on, people talked loudly to each other or into their cell phones, luggage wheels squeaked their way along the floor. He could see again, too, see more than just a blur of colors and indistinguishable faces. He would be okay eventually, just like he was okay after getting rid of his pain medication. Just like he was okay after leaving the armed forces, after leaving juvie, after leaving the gang, after leaving baseball. He would survive this leaving, too.

And eventually, he would be able to breathe without his heart burning.

He ran a hand through his hair, glanced around to be sure no one was noticing the spectacle he felt he was making of himself, and turned to go. A night alone would do him good. He needed time to clear his head, needed time to focus back on his job, his friends, his colleagues. He had never liked sneaking around. Hiding his relationship from Lisbon had felt wrong from the start, but just like Rigsby had once made the choice to continue the affair with Grace, Kimball, too, had made a similar choice. 

He hesitated outside his car, leaning his hip carefully against the door. He and Rigsby had faced similar situations. How weird that he never thought about it before. Talking over his problems with his unofficial partner had never once occurred to Cho, though he supposed it probably wouldn't have, even if Rigsby wasn't busy with a new family. Kimball very rarely shared his personal life with Rigsby. He was Wayne's sounding board, sure, but only because Rigsby usually needed affirmation of what he already knew. Kimball never responded in kind. 

And he probably never would. He didn't deserve to, not anymore.

With a tired sigh, Kimball slid behind the wheel of his car. By the time he got home, night was falling, as was a light rain. He hurried over to his apartment door, slid the key in the lock and froze. His television was on, he could hear it through the door. He took his phone out of his pocket and glanced at it. No messages, not even from Summer. He knew he hadn't left it on the last time he was home. He could count on one hand the number of people who had a key to his apartment, and that count included his building super. None of them would be visiting so late.

Then again, only one of them would have felt like they could make themselves at home by just waltzing right in and turning the TV on. That particular person always did, always had that annoying--yet somehow innocent--way of moving into someone's space and treating it as their own. Summer did the same thing, but Kimball had never trusted her enough to give her a key to his place. Jane also did the same, but Hell would freeze over before Cho would give Jane unlimited access to his personal space. So, Kimball knew who was probably in his apartment.

The question was why. 

After another second of hesitation, he finished opening the door and went inside. The sound of the baseball game was loud, almost too loud, and Kimball went into his living room to lower the television's volume. He then wandered into the kitchen, blinking at the unhealthy, unholy feast of pizza, chicken wings and beer laid out on his kitchen island. 

"Dude, where the hell do you keep your plates now? You've moved everything around."

Kimball blinked a little at Wayne as the taller man pushed a few things aside in the cabinet that used to hold his dishes. A plastic cup, left there by a previous tenant, fell out in the process and bounced on the counter before falling to the floor. Wayne sighed and stooped to pick it up. 

"Shouldn't you be taking care of your kid?"

The words came out harsher than Kimball intended, but his surprise at this random visit and his exhaustion from the day he'd had won out. Wayne straightened a little and fought to keep the hurt out of his face.

"Sarah's got him, she's more than capable. Um, Grace called me. She thought you might...I mean, look, if I'm not welcome or something, I just...things have been..."

Wayne's voice petered out uselessly, and Kimball felt like he'd kicked a puppy. 'Damn it,' he thought, and struggled to find better, more sociable words.

"Right. How is he doing? And Sarah?"

"We're doing fine. He's growing like crazy already. Sarah's amazing with him. A natural. But I don't think I'm so bad, either."

"That's great." Kimball wished his voice was more enthusiastic, he really did. He was happy for Wayne, he was a good man who deserved a good life. But even Kimball Cho had his limits, and he was fast reaching one.

"Yeah, thanks. So, look. Like I said, Grace called me. She's worried. Things have been crazy and I wasn't avoiding you on purpose or anything, things just got away from me. So, I thought I'd grab some food and see if you wanted to talk or watch the game. Either. I don't care."

Kimball fought off the sigh that he felt bubbling up, and instead grabbed a beer and twisted it open. "Grace is too damn nosy for her own good."

"Cho, come on. I know she can be a little pious sometimes, but her heart's in the right place."

"Yeah, I know. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Her concerns are baseless. Summer's gone, she left for Seattle today. She won't be back. She's enrolling in SCC, her sister lives there and she'll be living with her while she goes to school. She's gone." To give himself something to do, he went to the right cabinet and opened it, tugging out two plain black plates. He handed one to Rigsby, knowing if he hadn't acted when he did his hungry partner would have resorted to napkins.

Wayne grabbed a slice of pizza and some wings, piling them onto his plate with the concentration of someone building with Lincoln Logs. "Oh. And that doesn't, um, bother you at all?"

Kimball took a long drink of his beer. Jesus, he hated this. He never minded being Wayne's sounding board, but having the tables turned on him wasn't something he was comfortable with. 

"It's fine."

"Cho...Kimball. Come on."

"We were in a relationship. Is that what you want to hear? Fine. We were. But it didn't work. We're not anymore. She's better off and I'll be fine." 

"Did you love her?"

Cho snorted, grabbed a slice of pizza and took a bite, avoiding having to answer by making his mouth busy with something else. Wayne nearly chuckled at the look on his partner's face. He'd seen it too often before. Cho could only take so much sharing before he shut down.

"All right, don't answer. Let's go watch the game. But just know I'm here if you wanna vent. I haven't been around, and I'm sorry for it. I should have been a better friend."

Kimball blinked and watched the taller man take his plate and wander into Kimball's living room, his lanky frame dropping onto Cho's old couch, his feet automatically going up on the scarred coffee table. After a moment, Kimball took another slice of pizza, added a few wings to his own plate, and followed with two more beers. He sat down and the two watched and ate mostly in silence, only commenting when the action on screen warranted it. 

When the game was done, Wayne helped Kimball clean up his kitchen. As they threw the last of the debris out, Kimball sighed and sat on a bar stool. 

"You haven't been avoiding me, Rigsby. I've been avoiding you."

Wayne glanced at him, before rubbing the back of his head. "I wondered. Are you still upset with me because I asked you to lie to LaRoche about my dad? Look, I know he wasn't worth it, and I'm still sorry. I don't begrudge you being mad, but I don't know what I can do to fix it."

"No. Maybe I was pissed about that still, a little, but this wasn't your doing. I haven't been the best person the last few months. I didn't want it affecting you more than it already had."

Kimball's gaze was locked somewhere to the left of Rigsby's head, and he wished he wasn't such a coward sometimes. How could he tell him that he had almost let Wayne die because he was asleep? Because those damn pain meds had put him to sleep? Sure, Kimball was brave when it counted, but other times...other times avoidance was his only defense. 

"Look, whatever it is, it's over, yeah? I just want things back to normal. And if you don't want to talk to me about Summer or anything else, that's fine, but I'll listen if you decide otherwise. I just want to hang out again. I love Sarah and the baby, but sometimes I just want to drink a beer and watch the game."

Kimball smiled a little, just a little, but it was enough to satisfy Rigsby. 

"All right! Wanna spin by 7-11, get some Big Gulps and a hot dog?"

"Doesn't Sarah feed you?"

"Oh, she feeds me, but not stuff like this."

Kimball laughed a little and grabbed his wallet. "Fine. I guess it's good to know some things don't change."


End file.
